That antique grandfather's clock
Its rhythm will never stop.
Just like the beating of my heart
Each Monday morn at six o'clock.
One step closer to life's end
with every ticking sound
And there is nothing I can do
To stop time whizzing round.
The race is on...oh wait for me
I am battling against time you see
My goal in life is not fulfilled:
After-shock ~ weakness revealed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem